Sector 2814, Milky Way Galaxy
The vast emptiness of space held no terror for Abin Sur. After fourteen decades as Green Lantern of Sector 2814, he had come to find comfort in the silent void between stars. His emerald aura cut through the darkness as he navigated the outer boundaries of his jurisdiction, ring pulsing gently against his finger—a reassuring heartbeat of willpower made manifest.
He had been conducting a routine patrol of the sector's outer rim, passing through the shadow of a gas giant in a little-known system designated only by numerical coordinates. Decades of service had taught him to appreciate these quiet moments between crises. The universe was vast and largely indifferent to the countless beings that populated its expanse, but those very beings had a remarkable capacity for creating chaos wherever they gathered.
Abin Sur understood chaos. He had witnessed its patterns across millennia of peacekeeping. As a young Lantern, he had mistakenly believed his role was to eliminate disorder wherever it emerged. Now, with the wisdom of age, he recognized that chaos and order existed in dynamic balance—his duty was not to destroy one for the other, but to prevent either from consuming the delicate ecosystems of sentient civilizations.
These philosophical musings were interrupted by a gentle vibration from his ring.
"Proximity alert," his ring announced in its emotionless tone. "Unidentified energy signature detected at coordinates 3.729 by 5.004."
Abin Sur paused, his purple-skinned brow furrowing. The coordinates placed the anomaly near the edge of his sector's boundaries—perilously close to regions he preferred to avoid.
"Analyze signature," he commanded, already calculating the fastest approach vector.
"Energy pattern unknown. Consistent with no recorded power source in Corps database."
That was unusual. The Corps database contained information gathered over billions of years, from countless civilizations across thousands of galaxies. For something to register as completely unknown... the implications were troubling. New energy sources typically meant new weapons, new threats, or at the very least, new complications.
"Cross-reference with Nova Corps archives," Abin Sur added, utilizing the data-sharing protocols established centuries ago between the two peacekeeping forces.
The ring pulsed as it accessed the distant databases. "No matching signatures in Nova Corps archives. Nova Prime has flagged this energy classification as priority investigation."
Even more concerning. The Nova Corps prided themselves on their comprehensive cataloging of cosmic phenomena. If both organizations had no record of this energy signature, it represented either an entirely new discovery or something deliberately hidden from both Corps for reasons unknown.
"Contact Corps Central Command," Abin Sur ordered, altering course toward the anomaly. "Priority three reconnaissance report."
The ring flickered briefly before establishing connection. A holographic display materialized before him, showing the imposing control center on Oa. Salaak, the four-armed Xudarian coordinator, regarded him with typical efficiency. The Xudarian's multiple limbs moved in perfect synchronization across different control interfaces, a testament to his species' remarkable cognitive multitasking abilities.
"Lantern Abin Sur. Report your status." Salaak's voice was crisp, devoid of unnecessary pleasantries—a quality Abin Sur had come to appreciate over decades of service.
"I've detected an unusual energy signature near the boundary of Sector 2814. Requesting authorization to investigate."
Salaak's fingers danced across multiple control interfaces, his four eyes narrowing slightly as data scrolled through his station. "Your transmission coordinates are concerning, Abin Sur. That region borders the Forbidden Zone of Sector 666."
Abin Sur's expression remained composed, though a chill ran down his spine at the mention of Sector 666. Every Lantern knew the history—the genocide that had occurred there millennia ago, when the Manhunters had malfunctioned and slaughtered entire civilizations. It was the Corps' greatest shame, a wound in the universe that had never fully healed.
"The signature is within my sector's boundary," Abin Sur countered. "It is my duty to investigate."
"Hold position," Salaak ordered. "I'm contacting additional Lanterns for support."
Before Abin Sur could respond, two new holographic interfaces appeared alongside Salaak's. The first revealed Thaal Sinestro, Lantern of neighboring Sector 1417. His sharp, angular features and precisely trimmed mustache framed a perpetual expression of calculation. Sinestro had been Abin Sur's closest friend for nearly a century, though recent years had seen subtle changes in his demeanor—an increasing rigidity in his interpretation of the Corps' mandate that occasionally troubled Abin Sur.
The second hologram showed K'rok, a Strontian representative of the Shi'ar Empire who served as Lantern of Sector 2112. K'rok's massive purple-skinned frame dominated the holographic display. The Strontian's prominent mohawk-like crest extended from his forehead to the back of his skull, a characteristic of his race's warriors. Even through the hologram, his physical power was apparent—Strontians were renowned throughout the universe for their incredible strength, invulnerability, and ability to absorb energy. That natural resilience, combined with a Green Lantern ring, made K'rok one of the Corps' most formidable members.
A fourth hologram materialized, flickering slightly with the telltale signal degradation of transmissions from the distant Nova Corps headquarters. Rhomann Dey, Abin Sur's Nova Corps counterpart for Sector 2814, appeared in his blue and gold uniform, the Nova star emblem prominently displayed on his chest. Despite his relatively high rank as Centurion, Dey maintained the somewhat disheveled appearance and informal demeanor that had initially surprised Abin Sur when they'd first been paired. The human-looking Xandarian's face showed signs of stress, and behind him, Abin Sur could glimpse the chaotic activity of a Nova Corps war room.
"Lantern Sinestro, Lantern K'rok, Centurion Dey," Abin Sur acknowledged with a respectful nod to each.
"My old friend," Sinestro replied, his voice carrying the easy confidence that had made him the Corps' most celebrated member. "What trouble have you found now?"
"An unknown energy signature," Salaak explained before Abin Sur could answer. "Near the boundary of Sector 666."
K'rok's expression darkened, the bioluminescent markings along his jawline pulsing with tension. "The Forbidden Zone should remain forbidden, Abin Sur. The Shi'ar Empire has ancient records of what transpired there. Some wounds in the universe are best left undisturbed."
His voice resonated with the natural authority that came from representing both a powerful species and a galactic empire. The Shi'ar had maintained diplomatic relations with the Corps for millennia, and having a Strontian serve as their representative had strengthened that alliance considerably.
"Yeah, I'm with the purple guy on this one," Dey interjected with his characteristic bluntness, running a hand through his slightly rumpled hair. "Look, Abin, I'd love to help you poke the cosmic hornet's nest, but I'm kinda up to my eyeballs in Kree warships at the moment." He gestured to the activity behind him. "We've got three refugee convoys trying to evacuate from the Andromeda rim, and the Kree decided today was a great day for a blockade."
Abin Sur had worked with Rhomann Dey for several years and had come to respect the Nova officer's practical approach to peacekeeping, even if his informal manner occasionally bordered on insubordination by Green Lantern standards. The recent ongoing Kree-Xandar conflict had been escalating for months, drawing more and more of the Nova Corps' resources away from their normal patrol duties.
"I understand, Rhomann," Abin Sur replied. "The situation with the Kree takes priority."
"Yeah, tell me about it," Dey sighed, glancing over his shoulder as an alarm sounded somewhere off-screen. "Listen, I can't break away, but I'm sending you everything we've got on weird energy signatures from that region. It's not much—mostly myths and 'my cousin's friend saw a thing' reports—but maybe something will click."
Abin Sur nodded his appreciation as his ring processed the incoming data packet. Despite his casual demeanor, Dey was thorough in his intelligence gathering, often collecting information that more rigid officers might dismiss.
"I am not proposing to enter Sector 666," Abin Sur said, returning to the matter at hand. "But this anomaly is within my jurisdiction. If it presents a threat to inhabited worlds, I must assess it."
Sinestro's eyes narrowed thoughtfully. "Abin Sur is correct. The Code is clear—each Lantern bears responsibility for threats within their assigned sector."
"I can reach his position in approximately four standard hours," K'rok offered, the energy rippling beneath his purple skin subtly intensifying as he prepared for potential action. "Strontian physiology allows for sustained faster-than-light travel even without ring support."
"Too long," Sinestro countered. "I can be there in under an hour."
"Hey, if you guys do find anything interesting, maybe grab a sample for me?" Dey asked, attempting to keep his tone light despite the clear tension in his shoulders. "Nova Prime's been on my case about 'incomplete intelligence reports' since that whole thing with the missing Rigellian diplomats. Which, by the way, wasn't my fault. Who expects diplomats to go bar-hopping on Knowhere?"
Dey's attempt at humor barely masked the strain he was under. The Kree-Xandar war was taking its toll, not just on Nova Corps resources but on the officers themselves. Four years into the conflict, with no end in sight, even the usually unflappable Dey was showing signs of fatigue.
"Centurion Dey," Salaak interrupted with thinly veiled impatience, "if you cannot provide direct assistance, perhaps you could focus your energies on the Kree situation rather than distracting Lantern Abin Sur from his mission."
"Right, right, sorry," Dey said, making a dismissive gesture. "Look, Abin, be careful out there. That whole region's got weird history. The Nova Corps archives have some real nightmare fuel about what went down in Sector 666. I've sent the clearance codes for our sensor buoy network in your quadrant—might give you some extra eyes if things get hairy."
Salaak consulted his instruments. "The Guardians are currently in council and cannot be disturbed. Given the proximity to Sector 666, standard protocol would require—"
"There's no time for protocol," Abin Sur interrupted, his ring detecting a sudden change. "The energy signature is moving. Rapidly."
The others fell silent as data flowed between their rings and, in Dey's case, his Nova Corps helmet sensors, confirming Abin Sur's report. The anomaly was indeed moving, its trajectory suggesting purpose rather than random drift.
"Oh, that's not good," Dey muttered, studying something off-screen. "According to Nova Corps projections, that thing's on a direct course for Terra." He looked up, his usually jovial expression completely serious. "That's Earth, in case anyone's wondering. You know, that little planet with the humans and the nuclear weapons they think are a big deal? The one we're supposed to be protecting?"
Earth had been designated a protected world by both the Green Lantern and Nova Corps. Though the planet's civilization was considered too young for official contact, its strategic position and unusual evolutionary potential had placed it under special observation for centuries.
"Proceed with caution, Abin Sur," Salaak finally conceded. "Lantern Sinestro will provide backup. Lantern K'rok, maintain your position but be prepared to mobilize the Shi'ar Lantern contingent if necessary. Centurion Dey, continue your operations with the Kree situation but maintain communication links if possible."
"Understood," Abin Sur responded, already accelerating toward the coordinates. "Sinestro, I'm sending you updated tracking data."
"Received," Sinestro confirmed. "I'll approach from vector 7.3 to create a containment formation if needed."
"And Abin?" Dey added, his voice uncharacteristically solemn. "Whatever this thing is, it's not in any Nova Corps records going back to the founding. That's... well, that's pretty much unprecedented. So maybe don't, you know, touch it or anything until backup arrives? I've got a wife and kid I'd like to see again once this Kree mess is sorted out."
The genuine concern from the normally flippant Centurion wasn't lost on Abin Sur. Despite their different approaches to peacekeeping, he and Dey had developed a mutual respect over their years working together to protect Sector 2814.
"I'll exercise appropriate caution, Rhomann," Abin Sur assured him. "Focus on keeping those refugees safe. I'll contact you when the situation here is resolved."
"Yeah, you do that," Dey replied with a nod. "And hey, maybe we can finally get that drink on Contraxia when all this is over. Four years of rain checks is pushing it, even for immortal space cops."
K'rok's massive fist thumped against his chest in the traditional Strontian salute. "May the light of Oa guide your path, Abin Sur. The Shi'ar fleet stands ready should you require additional support."
"And may the Nova Force give you strength," Dey added, the formal benediction sounding slightly awkward in his casual delivery. "Or whatever. Just don't die, okay? The paperwork for replacing a Green Lantern is ridiculous."
The communication ended, leaving Abin Sur alone once more in the void. His ring projected a navigational path as he increased speed, green energy streamlining around his form to create a perfect aerodynamic shell despite the vacuum of space. The Nova Corps data scrolled through his peripheral vision, concerning in its implications about the potential age and origin of whatever he was pursuing.
As he approached the coordinates, he commanded his ring to mask his energy signature—standard procedure when facing unknown entities. His training as a Green Lantern emphasized caution, but his curiosity—the same quality that had drawn him to the Corps in his youth—pushed him forward.
The tracking beacon led him to what appeared to be a derelict vessel, adrift in the darkness. Its design was unfamiliar—not Kree, not Skrull, not matching any known spacefaring civilization's architecture. The hull was a deep, oxidized crimson, with what looked like ancient symbols etched into its surface. Parts of it seemed almost organic, as though the ship had been grown rather than constructed.
Abin Sur maintained his distance, circling the vessel to gain a better perspective of its dimensions and characteristics. It was relatively small—perhaps fifty meters in length—but something about its proportions seemed oddly unsettling, as though it had been designed by a mind that understood space differently than most sentient species.
"Ring, analysis," Abin Sur commanded, creating a protective sphere around himself as he continued his observations.
"Vessel composition: unknown alloy with organic components. Age: estimated at minimum 3.7 billion years. Energy signature emanating from within. No life signs detected."
Billions of years old? That would make this vessel older than most civilizations in the universe—possibly dating back to the time before the Guardians established the Corps. Before even the Nova Corps' ancient predecessors had formed their first cosmic defense networks.
"Match vessel configuration against historical archives," Abin Sur ordered, his unease growing. Something about the ship's design triggered a faint recognition, like a half-remembered nightmare.
The ring processed for several seconds—an unusually long time that indicated the depth of its search. "No exact match found. However, partial correlation with theoretical designs recorded in the Book of Oa, chapter 715, verse 113: 'The vessels of the Inversions shall be as flesh and metal joined, bearing the mark of ancient rage.'"
Abin Sur felt his blood run cold. The Inversions—the survivors of Sector 666. He had read about them in restricted Corps archives, had even visited their prison world of Ysmault once, against the explicit orders of the Guardians. That ill-advised journey had led to a prophecy that had haunted him ever since.
Dey's warning echoed in his mind: "Maybe don't, you know, touch it or anything until backup arrives?" But Earth was potentially in danger, and Abin Sur had sworn an oath to protect his sector, whatever the cost.
"Initiate emergency transmission to Sinestro," Abin Sur commanded, already preparing defensive constructs. "Priority alpha."
"Unable to establish connection," the ring reported. "Detecting localized space-time distortion interfering with communication."
That was concerning. Green Lantern rings operated on fundamental quantum principles that allowed them to communicate across vast distances instantaneously. Very few forces in the universe could interfere with that connection.
"Attempt Nova Corps emergency frequency."
"Nova Corps channels similarly affected. All transmissions blocked."
Isolated and facing a potential connection to the darkest chapter in the Corps' history, prudence dictated retreat—a tactical withdrawal to regroup with Sinestro. But the ship's trajectory continued to aim it toward Earth, and Abin Sur could not risk whatever was aboard reaching the vulnerable planet.
"Activate full spectrum defensive protocols," he ordered. "Prepare recording of all observations for emergency transmission burst when interference abates."
Abin Sur approached cautiously, using his ring to scan for traps or defense systems. The ship remained dormant, seemingly powerless except for the strange energy reading. Using precise constructs, he created a series of specialized tools to examine the exterior—microscopic scanners, radiation detectors, and sample collectors, all projected from his ring with perfect detail.
"The markings appear to be Proto-Semitic in origin," his ring reported after analyzing the symbols etched into the hull. "Partial translation suggests religious or ceremonial purpose."
Abin Sur's unease grew. Proto-Semitic writing on a vessel billions of years old, found near the border of the Forbidden Zone? This was no cosmic coincidence. The language family shouldn't even exist in a vessel of that age, unless the ship had been altered or inscribed much more recently.
He traced a particularly complex symbol with his construct, feeling a strange resonance through his ring as the green energy made contact with the crimson hull. The sensation was unfamiliar—almost like interference, but with an emotional quality that made Abin Sur instinctively recoil.
"Warning," his ring announced. "Contact with vessel material generating negative emotional feedback. Willpower integrity at 98.7% and declining."
That shouldn't be possible. A Green Lantern's ring was powered by willpower itself, the most stable emotion in the spectrum. For something to directly affect that connection...
Abin Sur withdrew his constructs, reassessing his approach. The Nova Corps data that Dey had shared referenced several ancient legends from cultures across the galaxy, all describing vessels of "living metal" that carried beings of pure rage. Most Corps members dismissed such accounts as mythology rather than history, but Abin Sur had lived long enough, seen enough, to maintain a healthy respect for ancient legends.
After several minutes of observation, he detected what appeared to be an airlock or entry point along the ship's ventral surface. The design was unusual—less a door than a sphincter-like orifice that reinforced the unsettling organic quality of the vessel.
He created a small entrance in the ship's hull using a precision cutting construct, bypassing the original entry mechanism entirely. Better to create his own access than trigger whatever systems the original designers had implemented. He then formed a protective barrier around himself before entering. The interior was dark, illuminated only by his green aura and occasional pulses of dull red light from what appeared to be emergency systems.
The corridors were narrow, with curved, ribbed walls that reinforced the impression of something organic. The air was stale but breathable according to his ring's analysis. As he moved deeper into the vessel, the red pulses of light grew more frequent, leading him toward what he presumed was the source of the energy signature.
"Continuous scan for life forms or active technology," Abin Sur ordered as he navigated the twisting passageways. The ship's interior seemed designed to disorient, with corridors that curved in ways that defied conventional spatial logic.
"No conventional life forms detected," the ring reported. "However, ambient energy readings suggest distributed consciousness patterns consistent with certain non-corporeal species. Exercise extreme caution."
Non-corporeal consciousness—entities that existed as pure energy or thought rather than physical bodies. Such beings were rare but not unknown to the Corps. They typically belonged to extremely ancient civilizations that had evolved beyond physical form, or else originated in dimensional spaces where matter as most species understood it did not exist.
A strange sensation crept along Abin Sur's spine as he advanced—the feeling of being watched by unseen eyes. His centuries of training allowed him to acknowledge the feeling without allowing it to distract him, but the persistence of the sensation was troubling. His ring would have detected conventional observation systems.
When he reached what appeared to be the central chamber, Abin Sur paused. The room was circular, dominated by a pedestal in its center. Atop the pedestal sat a dark crystalline structure shaped like a heart, pulsing with that same red energy. Each pulse sent waves of red light rippling across the chamber walls, illuminating more of those ancient symbols.
The crystal heart was approximately the size of his fist, seemingly suspended a few centimeters above the pedestal by an invisible force. Its facets caught and refracted the red light in patterns that seemed to form and dissolve with each pulse, creating momentary images too quick to identify but leaving impressions of violence and devastation.
"Ring, what am I looking at?" Abin Sur asked, maintaining his position at the chamber's threshold.
"Object appears to be crystallized emotional plasma."
"Emotional plasma?" Abin Sur frowned. "Like the Central Power Battery?"
"Affirmative, but spectrum analysis indicates rage-based energy rather than willpower."
Abin Sur's concern deepened. The Guardians had long theorized about an emotional spectrum—willpower was merely one aspect, with others including rage, fear, hope, compassion, love, and avarice. But to find a crystallized power source based on rage...
"Preliminary containment protocols recommended," the ring advised.
Abin Sur nodded, extending his hand to create a sophisticated containment field around the crystal. Green energy flowed from his ring, forming multiple layers of protection, each designed to suppress different forms of radiation and energy.
As the final layer of his construct enclosed the crystal, a thunderous voice echoed through the chamber.
"You should not have come here, Green Lantern."